Boston
by LadeeBear
Summary: Yes, the Augustana song. One shot. Songfic. DoyleNadia. Angst. Don't look here for a happy ending. But you should read, regardless.


**Okay, so, since no one – to my knowledge – has attempted a Doyle/Nadia songfic, I thought that I would be the first. One: I LOVE this song. If you have never heard it, please go download it, because you will love it too. Two: If you don't like stories that end without the 'happily ever after', turn around now. If you've read any of my other stuff, or skimmed over it, you'll know that I pride myself on two things: my angst and one-shot songfics. And I usually keep one-shots at just that – one shots. Basically, this one won't end happily and there won't be any other chapters to follow. LOL. Three: Read and review. You all know the drill by now! ;)**

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Augustana lyrics to "Boston", nor do I own the characters of Nadia or Doyle. Anyone else who happens to randomly appear, I DO own, so do not take them. Thank you! All events are post 6x24 and some are my own ideas of what could/should/would happen…except with the angst meter kicked up a notch or two. ;) Oh, and it's long. Prepare yourselves. LOL. I apologize in advance for any mistakes you may find. They're all mine, so…yeah. _

* * *

"**Boston"**

_In the light of the sun,  
Is there anyone?  
Oh, it has begun.  
_

Nadia sat on the floor of her apartment and allowed herself to finally break down and cry. After everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, she was long overdue for the emotional wave that overpowered her. Her petite body wracked with sobs and she drew her knees up to her chest, rocking back and forth slowly. Milo dead…Jack missing…Doyle injured…

The early morning sunlight streamed in through the closed blinds of Nadia's bedroom window. She removed herself slowly from the floor and walked toward the light, sniffing through her tears as she went. She stood directly in front of the window momentarily, before pushing the blinds back. Nadia blinked rapidly, overcome by the vast amount of light that was pooling through the room. She stared out into the street below her, and saw a man who lived a few floors below her kiss his wife on the forehead before they both got into their separate cars and drove to work. Nadia wrapped her arms around her shoulders and closed her eyes, drinking in the sunlight.

_How can people go on with their lives as if nothing happened yesterday?_ she wondered silently. _How can people go on when others are hurting?_ "Others like me," she whispered aloud. She listened to her voice. It was ragged and sleep-deprived. And her own voice sounded foreign to her.

It scared her.

_Oh dear, you look so lost,  
Eyes are red and tears are shed,  
This world you must've crossed.  
_

Nadia moved slowly through her apartment, as if in a trance. Her entire day, having been filled with non-stop movement and action caused her to become unaccustomed to silence and emptiness. And that was what her apartment was. Silent. And empty. As if there was some giant void waiting to be filled. As Nadia passed by the hall mirror, she paused. The woman who stared back at her had dark circles under her eyes. The brilliant brown eyes had lost their luster and were eerily hollow. Around the eyes was red and puffy, raw from the tears that had just been shed. And the smooth, darker complexion of the woman's face was stained with tears. The dark hair that had once been so neat and shiny had – like the eyes – lost its luster and fell into the woman's face in a disheveled mess. And as Nadia continued to stare, she realized that the woman in the mirror was herself. Soon, a pearly tear escaped her eye, and she stared at the reflection.

"_Who am I?"_

Nadia swallowed hard and rubbed her temple, before contemplating her next move. Instead of continuing her walk around the apartment, the woman climbed onto her bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.

_You said,  
"You don't know me,  
And you don't even care", oh yeah,  
_

A week later, Nadia sat at her kitchen table, staring at the empty apartment once more, reveling in its simplicity and yet its haunting silence. She stared down at her coffee mug and heaved a sigh. Shaking her head sadly, she recalled her last conversation of the day.

It was with _him_. It was with the person who she initially thought she had hated, and now…now she had no idea what she felt, but she knew that it wasn't hatred. Compassion, perhaps. Admiration, possibly. But there was one emotion that she was too afraid to even touch upon…love.

"_Hey, Nadia," he called. Nadia turned around to see Mike jogging to her. Every time she saw him, she felt her stomach drop. He had regained all of his sight in his right eye, but most of his sight in his left eye was impaired. He wasn't blind in it, but he definitely couldn't see perfectly. And Nadia identified the drop in her stomach – regret. She caused all of it…all because she was scared. Just like Milo…all she did was hesitate for one second, and her friend was dead. She had been too afraid to take Jack's advice and go against orders for fear that something bad would result. And – she thought with an inward scoff – the irony was that because she didn't take Jack's advice, something bad happened. She just couldn't win._

"_Agent Doyle," she said with an authoritative tone. Mike looked a bit taken back by her demeanor but still pressed on._

"_I just wanted to tell you that you're doing a good job. And I know that I said that before, but I honestly think you're running CTU just like Bill would have done. He'd be proud."_

_Nadia swallowed hard. _

"_I don't know if that's true, but thank you anyway." Nadia stared at Mike for another moment before walking past him. However, Mike found her wrist and turned her back around to face him._

"_Nadia…you can't do this to yourself, okay?" Mike looked into Nadia's eyes and took a step towards her, hand still on her wrist. Nadia forced herself to meet Mike's gaze. Mike lowered his voice and stood nearly an inch from Nadia's face. "Don't do this to yourself. This is not your fault. Nothing that happened…"_

_Nadia shook her head, and freed her hand from Mike's grasp, but Mike was quicker and he took hold of both of her shoulders. "Look at me, Nadia," he said gently. Nadia lifted her eyes, which were threatening to spill over with tears at any moment, and looked at Mike._

"_This was not your fault," he said, removing a hand from her shoulder in order to point a finger at his eye. Using the same hand, he gestured around CTU. "The Chinese breaking in here was not your fault," he said steadily. Nadia stared blankly in the direction where Mike had motioned. Mike noticed this and brought a finger under her chin. There were a few tears that had escaped Nadia's eyes, and as he noticed this, he felt his heart constrict. Mike kept his finger under Nadia's chin and stared deeply into her eyes. "What happened to Milo…Nadia that was not your fault either." _

_Nadia's teary eyes grew colder and she shook her head. "You don't even know me, Doyle. You know nothing about me. You don't know what I have been through in the past few weeks, alright? YOU didn't have to watch Milo take that bullet – that bullet that was meant for ME. So, don't you talk to me about what is and what isn't my fault," she hissed back. Turning her back on Mike, Nadia walked toward somewhere…anywhere to escape the pain, leaving Mike standing there alone._

And there, Nadia sat at her table, blinking back tears as she relived that moment. It pained her so much to see Mike because, in a way, it reminded her of Milo. She remembered their last conversation – he had, begrudgingly, accepted the idea of Mike and Nadia together, and assured her that it was alright to have feelings for him. But Nadia could only give him a short excuse…she wanted more time…and she never got a chance to say a proper goodbye to Milo. But that was his goodbye to her – the moment that he stood up to Zhou was the moment he said his final farewell to Nadia. He left the world with a wordless vow of his love.

And Nadia didn't understand how Mike Doyle could even _think _that he knew what she was going through.

But she _didn't_. Oh, initially she had hated him, yes. He had made, not only remarks against her religion, but accusations that she was "itching" to sleep with Milo. And his interrogation may have been brutal, but…something happened. She was worried about him. When she had heard that he sustained an injury on the field, she had actually _cared_ if he was alright. And she received heat from Milo for it…but that moment sparked something…

_Essential yet appealed,  
Carry all your thoughts  
Across an open field,  
_

Nadia rose from her chair and dumped the remaining coffee into the sink, then rinsed out her mug, dried it, and wrapped it in newspaper. As she did this, she continued to think. She trusted Doyle, she honestly did…probably more than he would ever know. "Or ever care about," Nadia thought aloud with bitterness. But as she sat cross-legged on her bed, Nadia couldn't shake the feeling that there was something deeper with Mike…when he had held her, briefly, after Milo's funeral, she felt a warmth and comfort that she had never known before. And it told her that eventually everything would be alright. And as Mike had stroked her hair gently, another voice emerged. _What are you doing? _it had hissed. _Milo just died, and you're running to someone else. You're betraying his memory…he died because he loved you and THIS is how you repay him?_ And, for the moment, Nadia had ignored that voice, that gnawing in her stomach, and had clung tightly to Mike.

_When flowers gaze at you,  
They're not the only ones  
Who cry when they see you  
_

Nadia uncrossed her legs and heaved a sigh, wondering exactly what kind of life this was – living every day in the shadow of death, knowing that at any moment _you _could be the one to go…or worse yet, someone else could go _for _you. When Milo had died, she had experienced grief like none she had ever felt, and it was the grief of knowing that _you_ were supposed to be the one in the casket, not the one walking away from the funeral.

Nadia laid back on her bed and stared at the ceiling, blinking away more tears. It wasn't like her at all to be like this…she hated crying. Crying meant that you were vulnerable, and Nadia could not be vulnerable. She _refused _to be vulnerable. All of her life, she had been the rock for her family and her friends. _She _had been the one to assure her family that everything would be alright. After 9/11, her father's car became the target of vandals who scrawled hate messages into it. Her mother was subjected to glares in the supermarket.

And still, Nadia assured them that everything would be alright in the end.

And here she was, crying on her bed. _What a wreck I've become_, she thought to herself with a sad shake of her head.

_You said,  
"You don't know me,  
And you don't even care", oh yeah,  
_

Suddenly, Nadia felt angry. She supposed that it was the cycle of grief…one moment you felt utter sorrow, and the next, boiling anger. She glared at the ceiling and clenched her fists. Who was Mike Doyle to think that he knew her? He had known her for, what, a week? And yet, there he was, assuring her that she was doing the right thing…trying to convince her that nothing was her fault.

But _why _was he doing that? she wondered. It was one of the unanswered questions that remained in her mind.

_She said,  
"You don't know me,  
And you don't wear my chains", oh yeah.  
_

And the only answer that made sense to her was that he cared about her. And she had to laugh to herself for thinking so deeply about a man who – a week or so ago – she was spitting curses at under her breath. It was the epitome of the love-hate relationship, but Nadia was beginning to realize that there were less and less things that she hated about Mike.

She initially hated him because he interrogated her based on her religion. But, though that event would never be forgotten from her memory, as the events of the day progressed, she realized that he wasn't a terrible person. He was callous, that was for certain, but she determined that he _had _to be – they all had to be – in order to do his job. But, just as he had accused her, he dismissed her as a mole when evidence suggested that her computer was hacked. She had been perplexed by that one, and it made her see him in a different light. Mike Doyle may have been harsh as far as interrogations went, but he was honest and loyal. And those redeeming qualities began to filter their way slowly through Nadia's veins, until she found that she was beginning to respect him.

He had saved Milo. He didn't have to, but he had saved Milo's job. And Nadia had watched on, puzzled as to why – Doyle and Milo being enemies – he was acting the way he was. She had seen Doyle in action, and she had seen his interrogation tactics. She knew how ruthless he could be. But for the first time, he walked away, and she began to see him as _Mike_.

And when he went into the field on the day of Milo's murder, something tore her apart on the inside – fear. For the first time, she was afraid of what was lying ahead for him. She cared about the safety of all the men who were going out there, yes, and she wished them _all _luck. But it was Mike who she told to "be careful". And she meant the two words as something much deeper than just a common phrase. She wanted, deep inside of her, to keep him at CTU and not let him fall into harm's way. What she felt, she knew, was foolish, compared to how she acted. They treated each other as nothing more than acquaintances and teammates at CTU. She knew, in her heart, that was all they would probably be.

She had let her guard down around him. On the day of the funeral, she had finally let go of all of her defenses, as if something, or someone was pushing for her to do so. She almost felt a hand, that cloudy day, on the small of her back, guiding her away from Bill, Stuart, Chloe, and Morris and into Doyle.

Nadia shook her head and laughed aloud. "That's insane. You've gone crazy, Nadia. You have officially lost it." And shaking her head, tears swam in her eyes and she sat up. "You've lost it Nadia," she said to herself. "You've lost it all. You've lost Milo…you've lost your strength…and…" Nadia ran a hand through her hair. "I lost Doyle," she said with a trembling lip. She picked herself up off the bed and looked at her empty apartment.

"And I can't go back."

_She said: "I think I'll go to Boston.  
I think I'll start a new life.  
I think I'll start it over, where no one knows my name".  
_

Nadia had never been to Boston, but she had read that it was a wonderful place to go, and Jack – of all people – had convinced her that she should go there.

It had been the day after Milo's funeral, and she had been at home, ready to sleep, when the phone rang. Confusion was etched on her brow and she answered.

"_Nadia, it's me."_

_Nadia frowned. "Jack? Where are you?"_

"_That doesn't matter. Listen, Nadia, I can't do…I can't live my life like this anymore. I can't bear to put the people I love at any more risk. And I don't expect you to understand, but…"_

"_I do," Nadia replied softly. "I understand, Jack. And I wish I had the courage to do what you have done these past few years. I don't know how you're still breathing, Jack. After all that you have been through…I…I admire you for doing this."_

_There was a silence and Nadia could hear the soft lapping of waves in the background. "Boston," he said simply._

"_Boston? Jack, what do you…"_

"_Boston is always nice this time of the year. So is Providence. Audrey and I talked about it a long time ago," he said softly. Nadia frowned and realized what Jack meant._

"_Jack, I can't…"_

"_You can do whatever you need to do, Nadia. You're one of the strongest women I know. You've done what you need to do for your country. Now do what you need to do for yourself. If you need to stay at CTU, stay. Don't run away. But if you need to let go…"_

"…_I'll let go," Nadia said with a whisper. She nodded her head, determined. "Thank you, Jack. For everything you have done, I can't thank you enough. And I am sorry that I…"_

"_I don't want apologies," Jack said sternly. "So save them for someone else."_

_Nadia let a light sigh out. "Goodbye Jack…and good luck."_

"_Same to you, Nadia."_

_And with a click, he was gone._

Nadia relived the phone conversation as she paced her apartment floor. And she wondered in her heart if she was doing the right thing. Looking to the ceiling for reassurance, she found nothing but silence and paint.

_"I'll get out of California, I'm tired of the weather,  
I think I'll get a lover and fly 'em out to Spain."  
_

She could start a new life in Boston, and that was what she planned to do. She needed to get out of Los Angeles, and venture into the unknown. What she needed the most was a fresh start, where she could be free…free…

She wondered what freedom tasted like, and realized that her parents might have known the best. They had fled the Middle East and had come to America to raise their daughter, hoping that the United States would provide the freedom that the Middle East had lacked. And for the most part, Nadia did not and could not complain. Her parents had saved her, and had given her a life that would not have been possible in Pakistan.

But California was no longer where she was meant to be. There was something clawing at her, begging for an escape. And was that what she was about to do? Was she just about to throw CTU into a pile of memories and bury them in the ground, never to surface again? Then what about Milo? Then what about Mike? Were they to join CTU as just a part of her past, and nothing more? Did she not care about them both? Did _they _deserve to be treated in such a way?

_"I think I'll go to Boston.  
I think that I'm just tired.  
I think I need a new town, to leave this all behind."  
_

And the resonating response was: no. No, they did not deserve to be treated in such a way, but yes – Nadia screamed this inside of her head – yes she _had _to get out of California. She had to leave her past behind her. She had made it through one week of hell, one week of sheer and utter emotional turmoil, and she was barely holding on. There was a small voice pushing her towards CTU each day, and that voice often took on the form of many people – her parents, Milo, Bill, Mike…but she never let that voice take on the form of _herself_. Because it would have been a lie.

She didn't want to go on anymore. She didn't think that she had enough confidence in herself to run CTU. It was easier to hand it over to someone from Division. They had more qualified people to run such a place…she just couldn't do it. And she knew that Doyle would hate her for giving up, but in her mind, it wasn't giving up – it was letting go.

She was finally letting go, slipping from the edge of a cliff and falling slowly, slowly into the darkness. She was ready to be caught, and Boston was her safety net. She knew that something in that city was calling her name, and she couldn't ignore it.

_And_, thought Nadia solemnly, _this may be my one act of bravery. This may be the one thing that I am able to be proud of. I can start over. I can leave this mess, this guilt, this pain in California. I can forget about this…I can start anew. _

And as foolish as it might have sounded to someone else, to Nadia, it was her final act of bravery at CTU. Milo had given his life. Doyle had given his eyesight. Jack had given the love of his life. And Nadia? Nadia was about to give her authority, her burdens, and she was going to place them in the hands of the new Acting Director of CTU. And she would reply: "Here. Take them. I don't need this anymore."

And then, _then_, she would finally be free.

And as she thought of this, Nadia leaned her head against the bedroom wall and smiled for the first time in a week.

She wouldn't have openly told him all of these things. She wouldn't have openly told _anyone_ these things. By glancing at her, you could assume that nothing was wrong. She was calm, collected, and determined, with a set jaw and an authoritative voice. That was Nadia Yassir – that was who she was _supposed _to be.

No one knew that she cried. The only ones who had seen her were Morris and Mike. Crying wasn't something that she did often, so to sit at home and cry was new to her. It was strange. And she wasn't sure that she liked it at all. Crying made her feel like she had no real control…she became swept away in the tears streaming down her face, and suddenly, all control was lost. And she hated the feeling of vulnerability.

She supposed that was how Mike felt when he lost his eyesight. After the explosion, she added 'Mike's eyesight' onto a long list of things that she should blame herself for. But his eyes had healed – not completely, but he was making the most out of it. She had visited him in the hospital, and had watched him snap at the nurses and become agitated when he would knock something over. She knew that he hated being reliant upon others for the fulfillment of his needs.

She knew how he felt, and she laughed. _We are so similar, and yet…so vastly different_. Shaking her head with a small smile, Nadia maneuvered her way into the kitchen and watched a man pack away her television.

Nadia paused in her step. What if Mike Doyle really cared about her, in a way that was more than just a friend? She kept replaying her final interaction with him over and over, and fingered her cell phone in her pocket. She selected a button, pressed it, and held the phone to her ear, waiting for a click. Nothing. She got his voicemail. It was too late to hang up, but she had no idea what to say to him. So, she took in a shaky breath and began.

"Hey…this is Nadia. Uh, I just wanted to…to apologize for what I said to you today. I didn't mean it…I know you meant well, and just wanted to help. And I want to let you know that I appreciate it…probably more than I'd like to admit. I guess that this is goodbye though…in the next few hours there will be a new Acting Director. His name is Matthew Carmichael. He'll be a good director…Bill knows him, so I have faith that he will do…well. I…I, uh, just wanted to let you know. And I wanted to apologize again…and also to…to thank you…for everything that you've done." Nadia paused and swallowed a lump in her throat. "You…thank you."

And with the final note of gratitude, Nadia closed her phone and sighed. It wasn't how she wanted to end their 'relationship'. And suddenly she wondered if she should have told him…maybe if she would have told him how she felt…

"Nothing would change," Nadia thought aloud. "Even _if _I told him."

_"Boston, where no one knows my name  
Where no one knows my name  
Where no one knows my name,"_

"Miss Yassir?"

Nadia snapped out of her thoughts and stared at the young man before her. The man continued. "We're about ready…if you are, that is."

Nadia took a look around her apartment, and realized how large it was without all of her furniture. It seemed so hollow…like a cave. She almost regretted ever deciding to leave, but she had a plane to catch, and the movers had to be on their way as well. She would be across the country soon, and California would be nothing to her. And she wondered where exactly Jack was…and if she would ever see him again.

She and Jack were not all that different, she realized. They had both lost a lot in their lifetimes, Jack having lost more than Nadia would have ever been able to stand. And both Nadia and Jack needed a new start to their lives. They needed something to keep them alive…something different.

"I'll give you another minute," said the young man, who bowed his head and walked out of the front door. Nadia watched him go, and walked the length of the apartment, listening to her heels click on the hard floor.

"This is it," she said breathily. "This is really it."

Nadia stared at her cell phone screen for a moment and then put the phone on vibrate. She stuck it inside of her jacket pocket and placed her palm on the front door. She crossed the threshold and turned around. There was nothing in the apartment – nothing but empty space and a past that Nadia could never forget entirely. Pursing her lips together she stared at the walls sadly.

After a moment, she placed her hand on the doorknob and shut the apartment door. And just like that, she had closed a chapter of her life.

And there was no turning back. But as Nadia reached the bottom of the stairs, she couldn't help but stare back up the stairwell at where her apartment was. With one toss of her head, she refocused her gaze and stepped out into the California night.

And there was _no _turning back this time.

_Boston, where no one knows my name._

* * *

**If you all want to form a giant mob with pitchforks and torches in tow, I completely understand. To date, this is probably the angstiest fic that I have ever written. And it turned out differently than I had expected it to…it was more of an emotional Nadia than I had planned, but I definitely think that Nadia is more emotional than she lets on. **

**Anyway, if you hate me forever, I understand. LOL. I just had to post this, because honestly – this song completely fit, and I worked a story idea around it, because it had 'California' and the woman claiming 'You don't know me, you don't even care' was too close to a 24 fic to pass up. **

**You all know the drill though…comment, please! Just no flames, thanks.**


End file.
